The National Anthem
by TheWorldwideDuo
Summary: La monoestrellada: single star flag. A single star, floating out in the ocean, she was and is. Who knew so much could happen out in the Caribbean? Puerto Rico has had her fair share. As it plays out in these few words on pages watch her life. Her life is an anthem. [Chapter 2016 April 11: 2000s - Your lighthearted 2000s version of the Puerto Rico and America we know.]
1. To Start Off

Know: Nothing can ever stay the same for too long.


	2. 1800's: Granted

She was confused.

And he was the cause.

Always, it had been like this. From the moment that they had first come in contact, she would always be confused. Every action of his she could question. Often she did, but kept to herself sometimes.

From their first moment on, he continued to have moments with many other lands. And with that, he built himself an empire. The Spanish Empire. But, in over 300 years time, he lost it all. Lost all but his few 'possessions'. She was one.

So, as strong as he was, he would try everything to keep her as one. In his eyes, she became important. She herself could sense that as well, but never figured out how she was important; how she was important _to him._ Most likely a game piece, she would think to herself.

He had control of her and her island. Though, maybe not all of it. Not like he had thought.

About that island girl, there seemed to be a certain... Something. She spoke just as much but lately seemed... Secretive?

Inside sources had failed her though, and with all his tactics he figured out her plan. He counteracted her as she went to claim herself the Republic of Puerto Rico. First, she tried to make her move with a revolutionary act: quickly controlled. History would write itself and it became known as the Grito de Lares: the Cry.

A cry indeed. For everyone who had so greatly wanted to help achieve a non-existent goal; they were imprisoned. They were charged. Treason, the Spanish had called it. Treason and sedition, as they saw it, deserved death.

She had charged into his room. It's been a while since a confrontation, the green-eyed man thought to himself. He recalled the moment from day one, back when he was simply a teenage body scoping the seas. She has grown very much since the first.

"I don't understand," she claimed.

"...What is there to understand?"

She balled her fists for a moment. "This! All this!"

"What are you talking about?" He almost growled.

"Don't play that way with me, _Jefe,_ " she said, the ice sharpening in her voice as she called him. He shivered. "This, happens every time! I don't understand! Why?!" The tanned girl turned to him.

"Because there is nothing to understand!"

"Mierda." Her eyes stared up at him from her shorter stature. "I am supposed to be part of your so-called empire anyway, Spain! You're supposed to build me up! Why do you insist on tearing me down?"

"You know that's not what it is." He stated, as calmly as he could.

"Everyone else is practically gone! Let me go! None of your 'buddies' or enemies would notice that I'm even gone; no one would!"

"You stop that. Puerto Rico..."

"It's 1868 already, what are possibly trying to hold onto?" She shouted with force.

 _"You!"_ Spain shouted and huffed, about to move toward her, but going against himself. She would have retorted at him but quieted down, simply looked at him. "Just- Leave!" He ordered.

For a moment, she stood and made no effort to move. It's been almost 400 years, her thoughts wandered. He still won't give up.

Nothing he does will stop me from trying. And with that, she was gone.

He sat in silence, watching her.

Years to come and revolts wanting to arise. How delightful.

Lately, a young American was starting to take notice. United States, his name was. His wanting to chat more south of North America was distasteful to Spain. Oh, if the Spanish man heard what he said about them...

Just one shy of almost 30 years and it was his turn.

He knocked the door to her room. "Oh, Puerto Rico," he called.

The wooden door opened to reveal the young lady. "Hmm. What brings you here now?"

"I think I have something that you would surely enjoy." A smile almost grazing his lips as he tried.

What is God's name is he implying? She thought, narrowing her light eyes up to his garden ones. "What?"

"Well, some things got signed..."

"Alright..." she urged on.

"And well," Spain sighed, as though something was holding him back. "In short, let us just say that you have some more freedom now."

Her lips dared fall in faint surprise, golden eyes widening and blinking, as if trying to wake from a dream.

"What?" was all she could spill out. "What, no, you are joking. Let me see...!" She managed to get out, grabbing for some sort of conformation.

"Here, here, some papers I have, read them." Spain handed them over as she eagerly searched through the lines. He simply couldn't help but crack a smirk at her. She smiled as she focused fiercely on the papers, tan fingers pointing and sliding across the pages, and it infected him. His face broke out in a grin, and Puerto Rico all but missed it. He ghosted his hand over his mouth.

"So, what do you thi-"

"Ah, yes! I love it, _me encanta! Gracias, gracias, gracias_ , I could just hug you, Spain!" She almost jumped in place, hair and all its curls bouncing along. "This is almost as great as when slavery was abolished a couple of years ago. Ay, _'Carta Autonómica.'_ I can see it already; I can finally make some of my own decisions for myself. Just... Oh, thank you so much!"

Ah, yes, self-governing! She could practically feel it: chains lifting ever so slowly, but lifting. Every step lighter than the last. _That_ is what it felt like, for sure. Having choices of her own. 25th of November of 1897. Approved.

He took action. Despite her surprise, he hugged her suddenly, his tall frame leaning over her much shorter one. "No problem..." His voice trailed, as if he dare add any other words to her; _for her._ "No problem, Puerto Rico."

In that moment, the atmosphere. It was just the two of them. All was in peace, and a man and a woman were embracing under a doorway.

And little did she realize how soon it would all be taken away.


	3. 1500's: Of a Lord

"You're a thief," She whispered to herself, the tears silently streaming down her soft cheeks with a look of terror gleaming in her eyes.

* * *

Years and ages ago, a young girl had been calmly walking on her island along with her peaceful father, or Baba as she would call him at the time. Each had dark, olive toned skin and white marks on their faces, paint, along with their hand crafted jewelry made from seashells, animal teeth, clay stones, and gold. The small girl's father had a slender yet muscular figure, not standing too tall (but certainly not short) along with very straight black hair. The untroubled two were strolling along the coast, simply speaking to each other with their gentle voices and language.

They looked out upon the ocean and the clear crystal waters. Though, something about them seemed... Odd, the small child noticed and pointed out to her father. He too felt a strange sense from the waves of blue. As though they had suddenly become unfamiliar. And on closer inspection, in the distance was an object or few. They each resembled a canoe in a way, something her father's people had made before, but they were shaped differently and looked much larger. The other natives of the island must have noticed, as some made their way back to their huts of homes in small villages and clans, while only little few stayed, coming closer to the sand to watch.

The large canoes with large flags of some sort soon made their direction right on the sand of land. Down from them all came pale skinned men in great numbers, thousands it looked. The few natives, rather than eyeing the strangers, greeted these newcomers happily and with smiles as bright as the sun, or kachi. The young girl and her father did the same. "Taíno tau, taíno tau!" They all chanted in their melodious voices.

The white men all had looks of pure confusion of their faces. The natives continued on without second thought and showed these newcomers the amazing things about their home on the ocean, though the strangers didn't mind at all, exploring themselves upon this island. Borikén, as the people there named it, meaning the great land of the valiant and noble Lord. The little female was in front of one of the men, along with her father. "Taíno, taíno!" She greeted him, a grin crossing her tan features. He didn't seem as old as all the others. More like he was in mid to late teenage years, his face was younger and hair a more vibrant brown and wavy texture. And other than confusion, the young man lifted her up into the air and smiled right back.

"¡Hola!" He said excitedly, his garden green eyes showing so. "You give off a different aura from everyone else, so you must be this island! You represent it and its people. Ah, November 19th, 1493, more discovered for the Kingdom of Spain and its Spanish empire. Good to finally meet the cheerfully cute little bebé that I will get to care for."

In turn, it was the little one's time to give a look of uncertainty of what this man was saying, her father Borikén slightly copying her reaction. Was he to take her away from her father? No, that couldn't be. Just now, her father had been speaking to her of all the duties she was to learn, to properly care for their land and its Indians.

"Well, I cannot stay here too long, sadly. But I will be back very soon, and I'll even bring some more people along, so they can move on and into this beautiful place, I promise. They would love to see and live here, such a wonderful new discovery to add with the others!" The young man spoke happily, his wavy hair bouncing along his shoulder.

But what was deemed another normal day from the beginning of the sun's rise, had drastically changed.

Starting in 1508, over the course of only two decades, everything was flipped upside down, and sure enough, that Spanish man did not lie about returning. What was once a distinctive culture, society, and religion was now only a copy of what the Spanish and its settlers wanted to see. This creation, in their European eyes, was a utopia. They had forced the Taíno to learn the Catholic ways and do as this one God wanted, to forget whatever they had before with so many different gods, because that was silly to them when only one existed, as well as speak Spanish more than their own language. The Spanish even pushed for payments of gold, threatening punishments for those who did not make it by the deadline or sooner, though they themselves did search everywhere for gold, digging deep.

In Europe (its Medieval Ages), unfortunately hygiene was not its top. Many of the men carried diseases that did not terribly effect them, but the same could not be said for the Indians. Due to never being exposed to them before, the natives were barely immune to these sicknesses. They quickly died in great amounts. The small representation merely gained harsh colds and watery golden brown eyes while forced to follow the European country around.

And already, the natives were subject to slavery. Under the Kingdom of Spain, it was law that hard laborers be paid some amount. But being so far from watch, a whole ocean away, that never did happen. The hard laborers got nothing.

So many people hated how this life had become. Many chose to escape by traveling in canoes in large numbers to other islands or moving their lives to the deep lush mountains. Those who didn't escape were immediate slaves. And some natives even chose death over slavery, killing their families by wish and then themselves right after, a group suicide. The very few Indians left, joining alongside with their violent age-old enemies the Caribes, tried to revolt in 1511 after learning through the drowning of a Spaniard and watching for three days that these white men were in fact mortal. This, only for them to be little to no match compared to the Spanish and their weapons, though causing some damage (most caused by the cannibalism that was the Caribes). And because of the number of natives left by the year of 1516 were so small in the Caribbean, a crown order was won to free the Indians. In 1527, a small pox epidemic reduced the number of the Taíno population to a third of what it once was. And 1542 following for a Bishop sent to the land to inform the natives of their "new" complete freedom.

For so many decades, the small child grew older while her father grew weak. She never would have thought that such a strong man could be taken down so quickly. She tried everything she could to help him, but alas, her days were spent following Spain around, who had decided she'd be known as Puerto Rico only few decades ago, and learning everything he wanted, as her nights were filled with silent cries and delicate tears. Puerto Rico knew. So many lives destroyed, not only of her people, but on neighboring islands and other countries so close by. This harsh process was being repeated all around the entire world for all she knew.

One day, when she finally was given time and escaped from the European old teenager's sight, she went to see her father, Borikén. The once strong, brave, peaceful figure, now coughed and coughed, scars all across his bare back and chest and who knew where else. "Guarico, come here," He said, soft spoken. He bent down to his daughter and gave a tight warm hug with his shaky, cold frame. Borikén gave her a butterfly kiss atop her forehead, his straight, shoulder length hair brushing her flushed, sick cheeks. Giving one last look in her eyes, his voice strong; "Never forget who you are, and never mind what others say of you, nanichi." With that, he turned, walked, and left for the mountains, a faint glance back. Gone. And not ever to be seen again.

A savior. He was supposed to be some kind of a saint. This Lord that Spain always spoke about, the knowledge coded in his blood, turning the young one into the good little Catholic girl. When you needed him most, he was supposed to be there for you. Do good all your life and He will do good equally back. He watches over you and as long as you carry a cross, you acknowledge him and He acknowledged you.

Puerto Rico's eyes started to get watery again as she fell to the ground beneath her knees. She sat there, hands balled into fists against her lap. Teardrops, sly and unnoticed by her own, fell to the dirt slow and steady, forming into a small rainfall. This.

She had done nothing all her life, but simply enjoyed it and the people that enhanced it. She had done nothing that would had been considered horrible or bad. She lived life simply and loved it, wanting nothing more from it. But this. This is what she received. This was to be what she deserved. This was the Lord's fate for her. The small water droplets from tears was soon joined by the clouds overhead that released their own water, letting it drop down upon her dark skin and dark hair. It was a light rainfall, but she wanted to be soaked. For this to be all over and only a dream. But it wasn't. She couldn't and would never wake up. The Lord knew that for sure.

Puerto Rico fell to her side, and laid on the ground not daring to move. She looked up at the sky between the tree leaves, waiting to be drowned or buried. Either would work. As her lighter than dark eyes fluttered closed, she whispered, voice hoarse and soft, without a stutter...

 _"You're a thief."_


	4. 1800s: What You Know

" Oh, Puerto Rico..." Hummed the United States, or possibly for shorter reference, America.

Across a thick, wooden, darkly polished desk a blond laid out a clear map. There wasn't much to it. It simply showed his own glory of a nation and country, front and center, and then some detail was added to the water surrounding it. Displayed below Florida, down and a little southeast, he thought to himself, were a string of islands. The Caribbean.

In this region, specifically, showed two of a few colonies he had heard about. To the south, a long, stretched island sat, fairly sized to match against Florida. Cuba.

And to the east of Cuba, one, two, skip a few (islands); was Puerto Rico. A small dwarf, in comparison. Well, not like dwarves were small on their own already. Maybe just dwarf. Oh well, the same concept understood.

The poor thing.

Lately, the young man was hearing much... gossip, so to say. Not about the Caribbean Sea region necessarily, but rather more, the one country the two left operated under: the Kingdom of Spain.

Anti-Spanish propaganda flooded the streets- Well, not flooded, but certainly, it was making headlines among the hub and buzz of New York City. And this was nothing new. The Anti-Spanish talk truly started over in the 1860s, a bit under 30 years ago, but just hadn't become prominent until now. Especially after that Ten Years' War. What was a country like the great United States to do when he saw a country struggling to leave the overbearing arms of a proclaimed empire? He only saw it fit to help Cuba. Though all rebellious methods proceeded differently, he saw himself in the island man; as young a nation the blond was, he too was in the same predicament not too long ago. It was hard to believe it at times. Had it really been over a hundred years since he was last called the Thirteen Colonies? The American shook the disbelief from his head. He had come a long way since then and grew much more.

Still he thought about Puerto Rico. "Must be lonely out over there," he directed out loud to no one in particular. It was just him in a lone room. If anything were to happen between him and Spain, he started to think, it would be centered around Cuba and then the other stations Spain had out by Asia and the ocean... He didn't have another map. What were they again? The Philippines and Guam, he believed he called them. He would fact check it later.

But with Philippines, Guam, and Cuba, what would happen of this other little speck in the sea? Being determined so, America would win a war if declared. And in this so-called war yet to happen, what use of having Cuba released and taking away the Philippines and Guam but leaving that small smudge of a colony? Obviously, if he did end up having to take anything from the Spaniard, the situation was going to be all or nothing, dealing with the Americas especially.

This little spit. If America had a larger map detailing more of the world, he doubted that island would be presented on the paper, let alone detailed or named at all.

The tall blond sat in down in a chair. Still he pondered what could become of it. Maybe he had to look at a different angle, see a different view point, through different eyes. Anything! America refused to leave until he figured out what he would do if he had the other three locations planned out but not this one. It needed a plan, too, whether it knew it or not. He was going to save this spit on the map, dammit.

Frustrated, he stood and stretched and turned away from the map. He patted out his pants and shirt and tie, straightening them and distracting himself. Staring out a window, he couldn't tell why he was so stuck on this tiny, tiny island. (Also probably some hero complex.)

"It's the Caribbean," he stated. "I mean, other countries must've tried to take it before-" and it hit him.

Other countries _have_ tried to take it before. That small place was worth a lot. Why else did Spain hold on so long?

 _Damn._

Since 1492, Spain had an empire building. Within the last 400 years, he lost so much but managed to hold onto these last few colonies. By Asia, Spain had little constant presence. In Cuba, it was surprising the European nation would let rebellions from his own colony drag on and last so long. Ten years did seem a stretch. _Respect to Cuba though for holding out and against so long and fighting for they believe in_. In Puerto Rico, however, business was quick with any independence issues. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Still...

Though, in 1868, the people had called for a revolt (probably not the first time), just the same as Cuba did and in the same year, too. Puerto Rico simply got their fire put out. Cuba was granted a war.

And the young blue eyed recalled all the stories he heard over the years. There's Spain, yes, he's got the places, owns it... _But also France... The Netherlands... Possibly Denmark,_ he inquired, _but those could have just been rumors, and then there is all those other European nations having sent their people over. And the crops, the sugar they have and we don't, the production that could be made with that... OH, and Lord knows how many times England has tried for this place. Gotten it once? Lost it? Still tried? How desperate..._

Eyes open, a revelation appeared.

 _For Puerto Rico._


	5. 2000s: Drown

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME, CARAJO?"

America cringed. "Even I can't be that loud. Let me call up the Dutch, they probably heard you from over here..."

"Better watch yourself," the tan woman glared up at the blond from her stance. He stiffened up a bit. He could say everywhere he stepped was the United States, if he wanted, but he knew this was her house he was in after all.

"Look," Puerto Rico sighed out. "I get that your _jefe_ and all and this is your little vacation spot aside from Hawaii, but you know better than this! I can't believe you'd do this."

Practically rolling his eyes inside his head, he retorted. "Oh, come O-"

"And to me, especially, América." The Latina finished up, eyes filling with tears. Being by a bright window with sun reflecting in her light eyes didn't help much to ease it the effect of her sadden face. She looked right at him and then quickly down to the hard floor, head bowed a bit. He stiffened again, a bit shocked. This was something he was looking forward to the day.

"H-Hey," the tall man said as calmly as he could muster. "I-I didn't mean to-"

Seeing opportunity to bury him, Puerto Rico continued, her hands moving curled bangs out of the way to cover her tinted cheeks and shut her eyes. "Don't say that! It's a lie, it's only another lie from you! Aahhh, you do this all the time. I never can get to the point with you, América!"

The four-eyed man pushed up said glasses. Slipping from his building panic? A good chance.

"Please, don't cry!" He tried to reshape himself; he tried to comfort her. America attempted to hold her shoulders, but before his hands could touch her, the girl pulled away.

"No!" she cried, rubbing her eyes. "Before you got here, I told you time and time again! But still, you ignored me. Why? Why for once can't you hear my voice? Calling to you for help but you ignored me! And now look at yourself," the Puerto Rican shook out at him, walking away, her back facing him. "Because of you, there will be struggle. Depriving _my people_ , depriving _millions_ , from necessities for life, for living!"

America walked up behind her. "P-Please," he repeated himself. She stayed turned away as he fell forward, kneeling on the sofa in the living room. But this day was a day the small woman just wasn't having any of that. She wiped any tears left from her face and shouted 'No agua, no water!' as if in a chant. If he was going to listen, she was going to make sure he got the idea in every language he thought she knew.

"You must have set this entire island back months or even years with all the water you've used!" She shouted, letting some anger slip in but still sounding as though in tears.

It was 2015. summer, and America just hated the sound of girls crying. He started to plead, anything so she'd stop. He rambled on. "I swear, P.R., I won't do it again, I'll listen next time, this is your place, you know best! I won't take really long showers or use any pools, please, I should know, I know what droughts are like, for example, I'm always, like, half thirty because of my west coast, but your situation is worse, I probably assumed since you're surrounded by nothing but water! I won't use any water and then you'll still be able to drink, you won't be dehydrated or anything, Puerto Rico please-"

She turned as, for once, he actually ran out of breath in his lungs. He displayed himself sprawled and reaching over the back of the sofa in the colorful house, an arm reaching out for her, begging that she would forgive him. The head was down, only showing his mess of distressed blond on top. He got himself very worked up in such short time. Likely. Whether this apology was sincere of him or not, Puerto Rico took it.

"Fine. Don't let it happen again," she spoke sternly, face flat and emotionless. America looked at her in disbelief for a moment, but let out a sigh of relief, flipping his body over on the furniture. He allowed himself to still sprawl out, arms lazily over the back and head dropped against the back of the plush sofa as well, chest breathing heavy. Had anybody walked in, one would think he had just escaped from a heated debate or had won a small fight.

She came bent over to his level from her stance behind the couch, head above his shoulder and her curls joining. Smiling, she said "The island may be in a drought but I have plenty more where that came from."


End file.
